Never Have I Ever
by I Write Sins Not Tragidies
Summary: All is well in Anubis House until news of a serial killer known as "The Stuffer" travels around. After Patricia Williamson's life is taken by the Stuffer, will Eddie stop this man once and for all? Peddie.
1. Chapter 1

"You don't understand, Lila." Ophelia Michaelchuq leans against her kitchen table, phone up to her ear. "I can't ask him, he has to ask me! Yes, it's that important! This isn't the Sadie Hawkin's dance, for God's sake!" the 17-year-old rolls her eyes at her best friend. "Whatever, I have to go do the laundry, anyway. I'll see you." she hangs up on Lila, setting the phone down on the table.

"Let's get this started." Ophelia bends over to pick of the full laundry basket when she feels a large, though, calloused hand cover her mouth. An automatic scream escapes her mouth, which is freed for the millisecond she is released from the hand's grasp. Before she can figure out what's happening, shirts and socks from her laundry basket are being stuffed in her mouth, and she is being tackled to the ground. She barely gets a look at the man who is doing this to her; all she can collect is that he's wearing black... What looks like pantyhose... Over his head.

She flails and struggles, waving her hands and feet, attempting to get even the weakest blow at her attacker. He seems to take no notice, and instead begins to cover her nose and mouth with the rest of the dirty clothes she was supposed to be washing until her air supply was completely cut off. Ophelia's eyes begin to water as she realizes what's happening. He is trying to kill her.

Her lungs burn and scream for air, and she can slowly feel herself drifting away. She begins to lie still after a few minutes, breathing slowing until it stops all together.

The killer checks her pulse to double check that she was really dead before releasing her from his grasp and uncovering her face. She was blue from lack of oxygen, eyes rolled to the back of her head.

"Perfect." he sneers, scrambling out of the house through the back door when he hears an, "Ophelia, we're home!" from the front of the house.

He's already a good block away from his victim's house when he hears a shrill screech. He smiles evilly as he slides into his car, starting the ignition, the pure adrenaline only a kill could supply him coursing through his veins.

-•-•-•-•-

"I don't see what the big deal is."

"It's a very big deal, Patricia!" Mara insists, pausing from serving herself chicken. "He's a murderer! He could kill anyone! At any time! Even one of us!"

"Oh, please." Patricia scoffs, waving her off. "He's not going to kill one of us."

"You never know." Jerome teases, leaning down so he's face-to-face with Mara. "Maybe tonight he'll sneak into your bedroom and kill you!"

Alfie comes up behind Mara and stuffs his napkin in her face. She shrieks and brings her hand up to whack him. "Guys!" she shoves the two laughing boys away. "Stop! It's not funny!"

"It's pretty funny." Eddie smirks.

"It's a stupid way to kill people, anyway." Fabian changes the subject. "Stuff their face and suffocate them?"

"It's... Inventive." Nina shrugs, spooning herself green beans. "Creative, I guess. I think they could've come up with a better name than 'The Stuffer', though."

"Like what?" Joy raises an eyebrow. "Mr. Stuffing?"

"Stove Top?" Eddie suggests.

"If you ask me, 'The Stuffer' fits just fine." Amber butts in. "It's not like he gave us much to work with, anyway."

"Did you see on the news, though?" Jerome questions. "About his latest killing? He usually takes the cloth out of their mouth after they're dead, but he left it in there this time! Do you think that means something?"

"Maybe that he got a little smarter." Fabian supplies. "It's not very smart to carry around a handkerchief with someone's saliva on it after you killed them."

"Can we change the subject, please?" Mara practically begs. "I'd rather spend my supper talking about something less... Gruesome."

"Fine," Jerome sighs. "Beautiful weather we have here today, yeah?"

They go through the rest of dinner talking about little trivial things; homework, teachers, TV, that sort of stuff. After a while, one by one, the students begin to disperse.

"I have to go finish some homework." Patricia stands up, scarfing down the last of her chicken.

"I never knew you were one to finish homework, Yacker." Eddie gives her his famous half-smirk.

She sneers back at him. "No one asked you, Slimeball." she storms up to her, Joy, and Mara's room, leaving behind a grinning Eddie. Joy smiles knowingly down at her plate.

"What?" Eddie exclaims at Joy's expression.

"Nothing, nothing." she holds up a hand in her defense. "Just when are you two going to make out?"

"I'd rather make out with Corbiere, thanks." he flashes a fake smile.

"No, you wouldn't." Fabian raises his eyebrows. "You don't shut up about her."

"See, Eddie." Amber drawls. "Even Fabian can see it, and he can barely even get his own relationship together."

An awkward silence hangs in the air between Nina, Fabian, and Joy, due to Amber's comment. After a few moments, Eddie finally breaks it.

"I don't like her, she doesn't like me." Eddie shrugs, standing up and stomping to his and Fabian's shared room.

"I'm just... Going to go do some homework." Mara lifts herself up from her seat and awkwardly shuffles upstairs. The last remaining students begin to clear the table when they hear a terrifying, loud scream come from upstairs. It was Mara.

Jerome almost drops and shatters his plate as he dashes upstairs to go find out what the problem is. He couldn't help but think that something was hurting Mara.

Close, but no cigar.

As he comes up behind the sobbing dark-haired girl, his breath gets caught in his throat.

There, lying on the ground, with several colorful bandanas stuffed in her mouth, is none other than Patricia Williamson.

He drops to his knees, checking for a pulse. "Don't die, Trixie." he growls, desperately pawing for any signs of life. He hears people come behind him. "Patricia?" Eddie's voice calls.

Jerome sighs in defeat after a while. He wipes his eyes, turning back to his friends, Vera, and, now, Victor. "She's dead." he half-laughs in disbelief.

"What?" Eddie falls to the ground next to Jerome, shaking the dead girl, trying to get her to wake up. "Patricia, wake up. I'm sorry for calling you so many bad things, okay? Just wake up. Please, Patricia. Wake up." His attempts have no effect. She's dead, for good.

Someone must have called the police. Sirens wail from outside and red, blue, and white lights flash, flooding the room. There is the pounding of feet on the stairs, and, seemingly out of nowhere, paramedics shove past everyone and to Patricia.

"Step aside, son." one demands to Eddie.

"No!" he exclaims, trying to push past the men and women. "No, I have to help!"

"You're of no help." one growls and Eddie steps aside finally, a blank expression on his face.

After several attempts to wake her, to no avail, one paramedic stands up solemnly. "She's gone."

"C'mon." Eddie insists. "There has to be something you can do! This is the twenty-first-century!"

"There's nothing we can do, son." 'Son'. The term made Eddie feel terribly small. "She's gone."

"No, she can't be!" Eddie refuses to believe she's dead. She can't die, she's Patricia, she's perfect, immortal...

"Listen to them, Edison." Victor comes up behind Eddie and lies a hand on his shoulder. "Patricia is dead!"

"No, she's not!" Eddie shakes free of Victor's grasp and races to his room, where he collapses against his wardrobe and rests his head in his hands.

No, he refuses to believe it.

She's not dead.

But she is.

Patricia Williamson, the girl he may love, is dead, murdered.

And there's not a single thing he can do about it.

**A/N: oh my gOD I CRIED SO MUCH WRITING THIS OKAY**

**ahem. Okay.**

**I'm writing this because I'm crazy. I won't update as often as I do "I Knew", but I'll try to update at least once a week.**

**SO. Get ready for an emotional rollahcoastaaaah. Woot wooot.**


	2. Chapter 2

The weather was nice and sunny. When you step outside, you could feel the heat on your face. Warm enough to wear a t-shirt and shorts. A pleasant kind of warmth.

Unfortunately, Anubis house was doing anything but enjoying it.

Most of them felt bitter about the nice weather. Patricia just died two days ago, why is the weather nice? One of their best friends was just brutally murdered. Is this some kind of celebration or something? Are they happy she was gone, never to return again?

"Why the fuck is it so fucking nice out?" Eddie curses. "It's supposed to be gloomy and rainy and gross out. That's how it is in every fucking movie I've ever seen."

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, this isn't the movies, is it, Eddie-O?" Jerome sneers.

"Can you two please just shut up?" Nina interrupts. "Patricia's dead. There's nothing we can do about it. I'd rather not spend my mourning time with a bigger headache than I have now."

The silence that follows isn't necessarily awkward, but thick. It was as if no one really knew what to say, and that's because none of them did.

They sat like that for two hours; Nina situated under Fabian's arm with her head on his shoulder; Amber and Joy lying together, sniffling; Mara clutches Jerome's hand as he stares blankly at the wall; Alfie sits cross-legged, bouncing a rubber ball on the hardwood floors; Eddie sitting forward with his head in his hands.

"I don't feel safe."Mara speaks. "I don't feel safe in the same place Patricia..." Patricia got murdered. She doesn't want to say it; it makes it seem all too real. But everyone knew what she was going to mention. It was like a blow to the stomach; another reminder that their friend is dead.

"Neither do I." Amber murmurs, almost inaudibly. It's the most quiet any of them have seen her be in all the years they've known her. "I want to go somewhere else."

"Don't worry." Nina assures. "They're arranging somewhere else for us to stay."

Silence again.

"So..." Alfie starts. "I'm hungry."

"I'm not." Eddie crosses his arms. He tries to hold back what he was really thinking. How could you eat when Patricia is dead? When she can't eat ever again? When she won't be able to sit or talk or fight or complain or kiss or hug be alive ever again?

"I'm making myself a sandwich." Alfie gets to his feet and shuffles to the kitchen, where he begins to assemble the necessities to create a sandwich.

Eventually, Alfie ate, Mara and Amber fell asleep, and everyone else dispersed to their beds. It has been like that since Patricia had died. Wake up, barely eat, go to school, go back to Anubis house, sit in the living room, go to bed to try to finish homework, sleep. It seems like a never-ending cycle.

Every night, they would pray that their friend would somehow come back. But she never does.

* * *

><p><p>

"Now, can anyone tell me the whole periodic table?" Mr. Sweet turns away from the board, staring expectantly at his students. When none of them answer, he sighs.

"One of you must know." he insists. Again, no reply. "Fabian?"

Fabian looks up from the table he was sitting at, looking flustered. "I'm sorry, Mr. Sweet-"

"Never mind." Eric turns back to the board and begins writing. "The periodic table contains..."

As his teacher and- ahem- dad babbles and rants, Eddie absentmindedly doodles and sketches on his papers. Little lines and scratches, forming a lot of scribbles. He's never been much of a artist, anyway.

He felt that this was stupid. Patricia can't sit in class and learn anymore, why should he? The thought of "Patricia can't" has consumed his mind completely for the past few days. Sitting at dinner; Patricia can't eat Vera's chicken anymore. Watching TV; Patricia can't watch Misfits with him anymore. Getting dressed; Patricia can't get dressed anymore. And frankly, it's not fair.

Who is this "Stuffer" guy, anyway? And why can't he come up with a better name? Or a better killing tactic? And why can't the god damn police catch him? How hard can it be, to catch a murderer? Not hard at all. He could do it.

Wait.

He could do it.

He could catch The Stuffer.

He got so caught up in the idea of finding the guy who killed Patricia, he didn't notice he had actually said out loud, "I could do it!"

"Yes you could, Mr. Miller." Mr. Sweet's voice shattered his thoughts. "Anyone could memorize the periodic table, if they really tried."

"Yep." Eddie smiles nervously and looks back down at his papers.

The idea of him catching this guy and avenging Patricia's death seemed too good to resist. How hard could it be? People do it everyday. He can just find a way to test the DNA on the bandanas that were left in Patricia's mouth... And collect evidence...

And maybe this'll be harder than he thought.

But he can't let Patricia's murder go unnoticed. And he really couldn't let this happen to any other people. He didn't want others feeling the way he does. Not that he would ever say that out loud, of course. But he really did. Deep down.

But he couldn't not tell the others about this. He was sure they would want to get in on this plan. Patricia was their friend, too. Besides, even if he refuses to admit it, he probably couldn't do it on his own.

So that's why he tells them of his plan later that day after school.

And that's why he's so shocked when they refused.

"Why don't you guys what to?" Eddie exclaims, throwing out his hands. "Don't you want to find this guy? So he gets what he deserves?"

"Of course we do, Eddie." Nina shrugs. "But the police can handle it."

"We're just a bunch of high schoolers." Mara includes. "We can't solve a crime."

"Whatever." Eddie rolls his eyes. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm not letting her death just go. I'm going to make this right." he storms off to his and Fabian's bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

He will find this man.

And he will get revenge.

**A/N: THEY KISSED OH MY GOD THEY KISSED OMFG I'M CRYING OH GOD. THIS IS THE HAPPIEST I'VE BEEN EVER OH MY GOD.**

**Ahem.**

**I hope you guys like this chapter! Bleh I vowed to make all the chapter at least 1,000 words long but it's sO HARD.**

******So yes. Review.**


	3. Chapter 3

For knowing everything, Google is quite stupid.

There were 409,000,000 hits for "how to find a murderer". See, you would think that you would be able to find some way to find a murderer on there, and all would end in "all hail Google, hallelujah", and all that shit.

Ha.

Eddie wasn't able to find one good result. It was all about list of murderers, different murders, the definition of "murderer"... But nothing on how to find one. 73 pages of nothing.

"Seventy-three pages of nothing." he repeats to himself, head falling into his hands. "How is that even possible? Google is like the fucking Hermione of the Internet."

"Hm?" Fabian sits up off his bed, rubbing his eyes wearily. "Why are you up?"

Eddie glances at the clock on his nightstand. Oh. It was 3:00 a.m..

"I'm not." Eddie whispers, drawing a single finger to his lips. "Ssssh." he shushes his roommate.

"I think you're forgetting I get an A in almost every class, Eddie." Fabian sits up fully, crossing his arms. "That's not going to work. Now why are you up?"

"There are fucking over 409,000,000 hits, Fabian." Eddie groans, running a hand through his thick, blond hair. "Seventy-three pages of absolutely nothing that could help me."

Fabian sighs. "If this is about finding that murderer, just let it go, Eddie. Let the police handle it."

"I can't, Fabian." the blond falls back onto his bed, setting his laptop aside. "I have to avenge her death. She would you the same for you or I or Joy or Nina or anyone in this house."

A brief silence hangs in the air until Fabian speaks up, "Why are you so set on this anyway?"

Eddie doesn't reply. He stays stonily silent, staring up at the egg-white ceiling.

"You really liked her, didn't you?"

Eddie takes a moment to figure out what to say, and finally decides on, "I have to try again." He begins to type "catching murderers" in the search bar. 5,130,000 results. This'll be easier to navigate.

Fabian heaves another sigh. "Goodnight, Eddie." he falls back down on his pillow with no response from his roommate, drifting off to sleep.

* * *

><p><p>

Sleep.

What's sleep?

Why do you need sleep?

Is sleep more important than finding the man who killed you nemesis and girl you may have been in love with?

No.

Didn't think so.

Eddie lies, head in his (full) cereal bowl, for a few moments before Mara looks over, shrieks, and pulls his head out. "Eddie!" she squeals, shaking him awake. Milk trickles down his face and off his nose and chin, colorful cereal stuck to his face.

"Hm, what?" Eddie mumbles, eyes half opened, before falling forward, freeing himself from Mara's grasp and landing with his cheek squarely on a sunny-side-up egg. The yolk bursts under his weight, leaving yellow goop on his face and hair.

"Oh, dear." Trudy rushes over, grabbing hold of his shoulders and pulling him up straight, back against the antique chair. She grabs his napkin from beside his plate and hastily wipes his face. She copies Mara and shakes him until his eyes are at least partly open. "Why don't you go take a shower and wash yourself up and then go to bed and take a break off school for today?" she suggests, getting the last of the yolk off his face.

He nods drearily, eyelids barely apart, shuffling out of the now silent dining room and to the boy's showers, flipping on the water blindly, not exactly caring if he turned it on hot or cold. He then begins to strip himself of his uniform. It seems he was on autopilot; barely even aware he was doing anything.

He steps into the shower, still in his socks, almost tripping over the ledge. He catches himself and doesn't notice his socks soaking up water as he stands crookedly under the lukewarm stream. He internally demands himself to turn it hotter, but his body makes no movement. He waits for another 5 minutes or so and then shuts the shower off, not bothering to wash himself even remotely. He shuffles out of the shower, drying himself off and pulling almost all of his uniform back on, not including the tie. Hair (and socks) still sopping wet, he stumbles towards his and Fabian's shared room and collapses in his bed, instantly falling asleep.

* * *

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Eddie always has dreams.

Almost every night, actually. Whether it's about meeting Megan Fox, eating the perfect hoagie, falling, or- ahem- something else, he always dreams. People are always shocked when they hear this, and he doesn't blame them; it really does seem quite out of character.

He hasn't dreamt once since Patricia had died. Not once. Not meeting Megan Fox, not eating the perfect hoagie, not falling, nothing anything. And he hates it.

Is it weird that it made the urge to find the murderer that much stronger? That he wanted to revenge her death even more? It was like it added onto the list that he's actually thinking of making; "Reasons to Find The Stuffer". He couldn't help but connect his loss of dreams to this, it was only natural. He wanted his dreams back. Maybe that would be the only place he would be able to see Patricia for a very long time.

How do police do it, anyway? Find a murderer? It's so fucking hard. Google hasn't been a great help, either. His old philosophy of "if Google can't, no one can" seemed a tad off to him now. He would need help.

So that's why he attempted to talk the rest of Anubis to help him again during dinner.

"Feeling better, Eddie?" Jerome sneers sarcastically as Eddie saunters in, plopping down into his chair.

"Fantastic, thanks for wondering, Jerry." Eddie retorts, just as scornful as the other. "Now, I have a proposition for you all."

"We're not helping you find this murderer, if that's what you're getting at." Amber takes a sip of her water.

Eddie groans. "C'mon, guys." he insists. "How could you not want to find this guy?"

"It's not that we don't want to," Nina begins, frowning slightly. "It's just that we could get hurt. You could get hurt, Eddie. Why can't you just leave it to the professionals?" Fabian, Amber, and Alfie glance over at Nina, raising their eyebrows, and then back at each other. Eddie chooses to ignore them.

"If they couldn't find this guy before, who says they could now?" he reminds them.

"Who said you could do it now?" Alfie adds. "They have the evidence, the supplies, the tools to do this. You don't, Eddie."

"Whatever." Eddie scoffs, looking at the rest of the table for support. Mara looks over at Jerome, Jerome rolls his eyes, Joy stares down at her plate, Alfie and Amber shake their head, and Nina and Fabian glance at each other, trying to avoid Eddie's eyes.

He sighs. "Fine." he begins to load his plate with whatever he saw and stand up, dish in hand. "I'll do this by myself." he starts to turn around but then remembers something, spinning on his heel to face the other residents of his house. "Patricia would do it for any of you." he points to Joy. "She did for you, Joy, last year, from what I've been told."

And, with that, he storms out of the dining room and into his (and Fabian's. Ugh. He misses having his own room) bedroom, setting his plate down on his bed, snatching his laptop from under his nightstand, and sitting down on it, starting up Chrome. "A little more research can't hurt." he mutters to himself.

About two hours of 84, 56, 39 pages of nothing but junk go by, reminding him of why he hates studying. Fabian still hadn't returned, and Eddie didn't expect him to for a while. It was only 8, after all.

He couldn't help but think that he should ask Patricia to help. But he couldn't, obviously. She was dead. He had to keep reminding himself that. She was dead. Never to help him solve crimes or do homework ever again.

He hears a knock on his door and he sighs a quick, "Come in." while typing in anything he can come up with into the search bar. He doesn't bother to look up when the door opens and someone steps in. He doesn't even glance over until the person is at his bed side. But when he finally does, he's surprised to see it was Joy.

"I'm not gonna tell you what Fabian says about you, if that's what you're here about." he starts, rolling his eyes. She shakes her head quickly.

"No, that's not what I'm here about." she insists, playing with a bracelet on her wrist.

Eddie half-closes his laptop, twisting his neck so he was face-to-face with her. "What, then?"

She states down at her feet, sighing, before finally stating what was on her mind. "I want to help you."

**A/N: hey. So. I updated. Go me. Sorry it's a tad late. Oh well. I hope you like this chapter!**

**Reviews would be, you know. Cool.**


	4. Chapter 4

He knew someone would come along. Eventually.

Eddie smirks as he sets his laptop to the side, swinging his legs around the other side of the bed to face Joy. "What changed your mind?"

She doesn't look up from her gaze on her shoes, wringing her fingers nervously. A few strands of hair fall in front of her face, free from her ponytail. "What you said, about her trying to save me and everything last year... I want to find this guy, too. Be a little more Trixie-like." she brings one eye up to meet his own brown ones. "So could I help you?"

Eddie crosses his arms, cocking an eyebrow. "Well, okay then." he nods. "You can help."

Joy looks up fully now, eyes bright with hope. "Really?"

"Well, yeah." he rolls his eyes. "I wanted help in the first place. I can't do this on my own."

She bounces on her heels slightly, suddenly overjoyed that Eddie let her help him. "So what do you have so far?"

Eddie smiles meekly. "Well..." he takes his laptop from behind him, setting it down on his knees and pulling up the document "info". He then spins it so it's facing Joy.

She frowns. "Um, Eddie, that's blank."

Eddie nods. "Yep, that's the problem." he sighs, running a hand through his spiky dirty-blond hair. "I can't think of anything. The detectives took all the evidence, I have no idea where to start."

Joy bites her bottom lip thoughtfully. "Well, did you research the Stuffer?"

Eddie raises his eyebrows. "What?"

She frowns. "The Stuffer. You know, the murderer? Who killed my best friend? And your girlfriend?"

He laughs awkwardly. "Well, first of all, we never officially started dating-"

"Oh, please." she scoffs, waving him off dismissively. "You practically were. Shut up."

"- and no, I haven't researched him, why would I? I don't need to know him, I need to know how to catch a murderer."

Joy sighs. "Boys really are stupid." she takes the laptop from Eddie's hands, plopping down next to him and sitting cross-legged, the computer balancing on her knee. "You need to know the murderer, and well, Eddie." she types "the Stuffer" in the Google search bar, selecting is Wikipedia page. "You have to know their patterns, their habits, what makes them tick..."

"And you know this how...?" He questions. Girls aren't that all-knowing...

"I've seen my share of police shows, Eddie." she skims through the page on the serial killer, looking for anything that seemed to stand out for her. She ignores the usual troll additions to the page, such as "the Stuffer has a sidekick known as 'Stove Top'". She finally gets to the list of kills and feels a pang when she sees Patricia Williamson's own name added to the bottom of the list. After a bit of analyzing, she finally notices a pattern. Twisting the laptop to show the boy next to her, she points it out.

"See?" she says. "All the people he's killed are 15-year-old-girls."

Eddie frowns, double-checking and seeing that it is true. "Why do you think that is?" he asks, pretending to not notice Patricia's name listed at the bottom.

Joy shrugs, glancing over the bullets again. "I dunno. Maybe he has a thing against 15-year-old girls...?"

"Maybe he thinks 15 is an unlucky number and is sexist." he suggests jokingly.

She smiles. "Maybe he's always had a dream of being a 15-year-old girl and thought, 'hey, if I can't, no one can!'."

"Maybe a 15-year-old girl bumped into him and made him drop a bunch of stuff, and now he has a thing against all 15-year-old girls."

The two laugh for a few moments. A few moments of happiness, where they forget all about Patricia not breathing and being feet and feet down into the ground. But it was gone soon, too soon, leaving a guilty after-shock, more thoughts of "Patricia can't" clouding the student's minds.

"Ahem." Joy clears her throat, shifting awkwardly. "Anyway. Now we have a general idea of what this guy is about."

Eddie contemplates the thought for a few minutes, a half-awkward silence hanging in between them. He finally shatters it with a, "What if we can figure out who this guy is gonna kill next?"

She frowns. "Are these deaths even planned?"

He shrugs again, gnawing at his bottom lip. "I have no idea. They sound like they might be, what with the pattern of the killings and everything."

Joy stares down at her lap, deep in thought. After a few minutes, she looks up, meeting Eddie's eyes.

"So all we have to do is find who he's gonna kill next?" she murmurs, playing with her bracelet once again.

Eddie nods. "I think so, yeah. It can't be that hard."

"If the professionals couldn't do it..." she trails off, frowning uncertainly. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Getting cold feet?" he jokes. "After a few hours?"

"I just don't want to get hurt or put myself or anyone in a bad situation." she admits.

"It'll be fine, Joy." he attempts to comfort his house mate awkwardly. He's never been good at this stuff. "The worst that'll happen is that we don't find this guy."

Joy shrugs. "I guess..."

At that moment, Victor's call of, "It's ten o'clock! In five minutes I want... To hear... A pin... Drop." rings throughout the old house.

"Well, I guess I'll see you, then." she gets on her feet after handing the laptop to Eddie.

"See you." he waves a quick goodbye to his new ally as she slips out of the bedroom and up to her own dorm.

He satisfactorily shuts his laptop, bending over to slide it under his bed and sitting back up, leaning back against his headboard. Tonight was good. Tonight was great. He- they- were actually getting somewhere. He could feel them slowly inching closer to the killer. And it felt great.

And, for the first time in a week, he lets himself get a full nights sleep.

* * *

><p><p>

"Shit." the man lowers his binoculars, shifting on his branch. The leaves crinkle under his weight. "Now there's two forces against me." he drops the binoculars into the satchel hanging at his side, leaning against the trunk of the tree he was hiding in. The bark feels rough beneath his skin, leaving brown dirt and dust on his clothes and hair.

He heaves a deep sigh, attempting to calm and reassure himself that he had nothing to worry about. If the cops couldn't catch him, a couple of high schoolers couldn't either, could they?

Could they?

No, they couldn't. Slowly he tightens the strap on his back, stretches his limbs briefly, and begins to shimmy down the tree, trying his best not to hurt himself on the bark. All is well. No one can catch the Stuffer.

**A/N: I'm sorry it took me so long to update and I'm sorry this is so short. It's kind of like a filler, all stories have to have them. And Eddie (and now Joy) are getting somewhere! Yay! **

Reviews would be great.


	5. Chapter 5

Eddie sighs as he shuts his locker, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. The loud buzz of the hallways barely keeps him awake. God, he was tired. Why was he so exhausted?

He begins to shuffle numbly down the hallway, books in hand, not registering it when people shove him against the wall. Why is he so tired? He never gets this bad.

He was about to turn into science (he thinks) when he feels a hand on his arm, and he's suddenly pulled into another room which he eventually identifies as a janitor's closet. He's shoved up against a rack full of toilet paper and paint as his abductor swiftly slams the door shut and spins to meet his gaze.

The face sure as hell makes him alert.

"Yacker?" he manages to choke out. "B-But you're de-"

He's interrupted by the- supposedly dead- redhead wrapping her arms around his neck and slamming her lips onto his. He's taken back for a few moments but then reacts, slowly snaking his own arms around her tiny waist and pulling her closer to him. Soon it's turned into a full-blown make-out session, becoming more heated and hungry and passionate by the second as they desperately grab for each other's shirts, hair, and faces.

But it seems too soon when Patricia is pulling away, a smug look on her face. Eddie stares at her open-mouthed, lips still swollen from the kissing , as she turns around and out the door, shutting it behind her softly.

"Holy fucking-" he jolts up, almost falling off his bed and onto the floor, breathing heavily as his eyes dart around the room, trying to take in his surroundings. After a few seconds of panic, his heart rate begins to drop as he realizes he's in his room.

His room.

So that means the make-out session with Patricia was a dream.

A dream.

A lump seems to be caught in his throat as it settles in his mind that he was dreaming. That he really hadn't seen Patricia, she hadn't randomly pull him into a janitor's closet and make out with him against the shelve. That she was still dead, not alive. She couldn't kiss him because now she was a corpse (and no way in hell is he making out with a corpse, whether it's Yacker or Megan Fox).

But he suddenly realizes that it was his first dream since she had been killed. His dreams were back. He silently cheers to himself, adrenaline still pumping from the dream he just had. He glances over at the clock to check the time. 3:24 a.m..

Silently, he shifts around under his covers until he's comfortable and slowly lowers himself down, eyelids slipping closed as his head rests on his pillow.

It's then when he realizes, with a start, that today was Patricia's funeral.

* * *

><p>Eddie huffs, playing with the knot in his red tie, annoyed. "Ties are obnoxious." he groans to Fabian, who rolls his eyes in response.<p>

"I know." he straightens out his black coat.

"I mean, seriously. What kind of idiot thought a tie was a good idea? Who would want a piece of cloth tied around your neck?"

"I dunno."

"Who came up with the tie, anyway? Was someone really so bored that they decided to try and tie some cloth around their neck."

"Maybe."

A few minutes of silence go between the two as Eddie struggles to tame his tie and Fabian checks over the last of his outfit. The brunette finally breaks it with, "So how's your search for The Stuffer going?"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Why do you care?"

"I-I..." Fabian trails off, and the blond smirks.

"Interested on joining in, Fabes?" he quirks an eyebrow.

Fabian looks flustered. "No, no, no." he insists, shaking his head. His face begins to turn a burning shade or red. "Of course not." he releases a nervous laugh. "Just... Making conversation."

Eddie nods, smirking. "Sure." he mutters sarcastically. "And, if you must know, it's going fantastic."

Fabian raises his dark eyebrows, turning his head to look at his new roommate doubtfully. "Really?"

His smile falls as Eddie's shoulders droop. "Y-Yeah," he stutters. "Tot..." he sighs defeatedly. "It's sucked so far, okay?"

Fabian grins a little. "Yeah, thought so."

"It's just... We're nowhere! We've only noticed that he always kills 15-year-old girls." Eddie moans. "That's barely a lead."

Fabian shrugs, glancing at the clock on his nightstand. 4:45. "We gotta go, mate." he says, flattening his hair with his hands one last time. "Funeral time."

"Funeral time." Eddie repeats glumly, letting his- untied- tie hang around his neck limply. "Maybe I can get Jerry or someone to show me how to tie this thing..."

Fabian rolls his eyes, untying his own tie. "Look, you do this, and then..."

"Time to go, guys." Nina pokes her head in the door, giving a small, sad smile. "Cab's here."

"Whatever." Eddie grumbles, yanking his tie off from around his neck and tossing it on his bed. "Let's go."

He wishes the ride would go longer, but it was only a few short minutes. Funerals suck. They truly, honestly do. All the crying. All the sad stories. And, of course, the dead body lying in the front of the church. Who enjoys spending time in the same room as a dead body? Really.

He sits, hunched over, in the long, mahogany pews, as the priest drones on and on about how young, how loved, how special Patricia was. He must have mentioned how young she was at least 5 times. And he mentioned bombs a lot, too. "Death is like dropping a bomb on your life", "I've preached for people blown up by bombs, even", "If you want to lose weight, you have to drop a bomb in your life to change". Eddie couldn't help but wonder if he was a bomb technician in a past life or something.

There was also tons of crying. _Tons_ of it. Joy was crying, Nina was crying, Piper, Amber, Mara (he even swears he saw Jerry and Alfie tear up a bit, but he wasn't in the mood for ratting people out. He doesn't rat people out. Just like Yacker...). God, he hates crying (although he was holding back the urge to cry himself, but he would never say that out loud).

And then came the eulogies. Only Joy, Piper, and Patricia's dad did one. They hadn't asked Eddie to do one, and, frankly, he was glad. He wasn't sure he would have the strength to.

They're all depressing and sad, of course. About how much Yacker meant to them, how much they loved her, how they miss her. They all made him want to break down and cry himself, but, no, he can't do that. He's bad-boy Eddie. Without emotions or feelings or cares...

He despises it sometimes. Especially at times like this.

And, by the time Joy finishes her eulogy, he finds light tears running down his face. He didn't even know he was crying.

And he was surprised to find he doesn't care.

**A/N: I am sosososososo sorry for taking so long to update. I don't have much of an excuse, other than I've been lacking motivation, what with the season ending and everything. And this wasn't the best chapter, kind of like a filler, but you got a Peddie make out! Even if it was a dream! Yay!**

**EDIT: Sorry for the whole duplicate thing and sorry for not fixing it until now!**


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